Dialogue

On a Staircase in a Museum in Chicago

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“What do you mean about what?  About the painting, of course.”

“I don’t know Elle, what do you want me to think about it?”

“Well don’t you have any opinion?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.  I like the colors.  They’re very striking.  They make me want to open up my soul and tell you absolutely everything about myself.  Things I swore I’d never share with anyone else.”

“You’re a dick, Jason.”

“They’re a bunch of clouds, Elle.  It’s just a canvas painted blue with streaks of white that blend together towards the top.”

“It’s an O’Keefe.”

“It’s a waste.  Oh don’t give me that look.”

“Care to elaborate then?”

“It’s a waste of paint, of canvas, of space, of my time.  Stop sighing, you asked me to explain.”

“I just don’t get you anymore.”

“It’s a painting.”

“It’s an O’Keefe.”

“It’s just an opinion.”

“But it’s your opinion.

“And what does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything!”

“This isn’t about the painting, is it?  Oh don’t cry.  At least not here.  Let’s just move to the side and—”

“No.  No we’re not pushing this to the side again!”

“Elle—”

“No!  You will not be embarrassed of me and you will not push our problems under the rug again.”

“Problems?  What problems are we having?  I’m sorry that I don’t like the cloud painting.  I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t get anything that I like!  That’s the problem!”

“Elle, please, calm down.  This is a museum.  People are looking.  I’m sorry.  Okay?  I’m sorry.  But I love you.  I wouldn’t have given you this ring if—”

“Let go of me.”

“I’m sorry.  What I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t love you.  If I didn’t want to marry you, Elle.  I want to make this work.”

“I… I…”

“Oh, Elle, don’t do that.  Please, please don’t do that.”

“Take it back.  I can’t marry you.  I can’t do this anymore.”

“Please.”

“Take it.”

“I can’t believe this.  You’re leaving me because of a painting.”

“It’s an O’Keefe.”